


Werewolves and Wraiths in the Woods

by lilsamarooo



Series: The Horrifying Adventures of Jaskier and Bee! [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blood and Violence, Gen, Ghosts, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Needs a Hug, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Slash, Protective Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25563034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsamarooo/pseuds/lilsamarooo
Summary: Jaskier goes to a cemetery in the woods to test his ghost communicating skills. He doesn’t realize that there are other dangers besides wraiths in the forest until one is staring him in the face, teeth bared and bloody.
Relationships: Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: The Horrifying Adventures of Jaskier and Bee! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826122
Comments: 70
Kudos: 175





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to read the previous works in this series to understand this! Happy reading :)

❧

“Bee, I think I’m in _love._ Is that pathetic? I mean I’ve known him for more than a month now and we’ve been constantly talking. I know I said I wasn’t gonna date anyone for at least a couple months after what happened with Valdo, but he’s different, I know it! I’m not pathetic, right Bee?”

“Meeeow.”

“I’m taking that as a yes, I just want you to know.”

Jaskier’s phone buzzed with another text and the barista smiled as he read what had been sent.

> Jask, you work at a coffee shop but you don’t like coffee? Disgraceful.

> The shop sells tea too!! What about you? Are you a coffee or a tea kind of guy?

> I prefer tea, but coffee works too. No sweeteners or milk, though. Just plain dark coffee.

> How do you even drink something that bitter Geralt??

Bee meowed again, swishing her orange tail impatiently, and Jaskier set his phone down, opening a can of her wet food and putting it in a bowl.

“Sorry baby,” he laughed, taking both their bowls to the couch. “I’m yours for the rest of the day, I promise.” Jaskier did feel a bit bad. He’d been messaging Geralt more and more lately and not spending as much time playing with Bee. The poor thing was miffed at the lack of attention from the barista. Jaskier on the other hand, was miffed at the multiple spirits that kept screaming in his head.

The voices hadn’t stopped, but Jaskier noticed he was getting better at controlling their volume inside his head. The unbearable pressure that he’d felt whenever hearing a spirit had mostly passed, and now he could even see faint silhouettes of the spirits at night. A bit of researching had told Jaskier that he might be a medium, someone who can hear and communicate with spirits of the dead. Being the very smart person he is, Jaskier came up with a plan.

Tonight, he’d go to the cemetery in the woods near his apartment to see if he could communicate with spirits like other mediums. And he’d bring Bee because he was scared to go alone. Jaskier’s neighbors would be grateful to have him out of the apartment anyway. The barista had been having more and more nightmares, and the last few nights of rest he’d gotten had been interrupted by him waking up screaming and shaking on his bed, Bee concerned and meowing next to him. Most of them were of people he’d never seen before, and every time they were killing him.

Sometimes it was quick and easy, a knife to the throat or a bullet in the heart, other times it was agonizingly slow and horrifyingly vivid. Drowning in a bathtub, choked with bare hands (and not in the fun way), and being pushed from the roof of a building were some of the worst ones he’d experienced. They were even starting to affect the barista when he was awake. Jaskier found himself with a new fear of heights. He’d also been avoiding taking baths and wearing necklaces or shirts with tight collars around his neck.

Every time Jaskier thought about telling Geralt and the others, doubt would start to make his stomach twist. What if they killed him? What if he was a monster and he didn’t even know? What if they hated him for not saying anything-

“Bee!” Jaskier smiled as the Maine Coon swatted at his face with her fluffy paw. “I’m fine, Bee, promise.”

At the sound of his alarm going off, Jaskier got out Bee’s blue cat harness and his jacket. It’d been getting steadily colder as summer turned to fall, and Jaskier was always constantly icy, so the temperature only made it worse. Locking the door, Jaskier picked up Bee in his arms and made his way down to the lobby. The elevator in his apartment was barely working and seemed to be on the verge of snapping right off of the cables, which terrified Jaskier to no end.

The wind whipped across his face and the barista tucked Bee into the side of his jacket, shivering at the intense cold. _Maybe I should’ve left Bee at home and done this by myself,_ he thought, glancing down at Bee, who was huddled to his chest with her fur puffed out to an amusing degree.

It only took ten minutes to walk to the cemetery, and thankfully the trees surrounding them blocked out most of the wind. Vine covered tombstones lined the inside of the gates, some cracked and crumbling with age. Jaskier kneeled down beside one of the graves and stared at the engraving.

_Congratulations, Nellie Young! You get to be part of my insane experiment. Prepare to be… communicated with,_ Jaskier thought, setting Bee down in the cat carrier/backpack that he sometimes used when Bee got tired and wouldn’t walk. He placed her a bit away from the gravestone and sat down across from it, shivering as the wind picked up.

Too bad Jaskier had absolutely no idea how to do this. Most of the websites didn’t include a PDF with step-by-step instructions on how to communicate with spirits. The barista waited until his phone alarm went off. Midnight.

“H-hello? Nellie Young? If you’re here, could you please answer me?” Dead silence, besides Bee’s low growling. The wind picked up again, cold and harsh. It felt like cuts on Jaskier’s face. He tried again. “Nellie Young, if you can hear me, say something! Are y-”

_“Who are you? Do you know where I am?”_

Jaskier froze. The voice sounded like it was coming from everywhere at once, but also… in front of him? Fighting against his instincts telling him to _run, get away,_ Jaskier slowly reached out and touched the gravestone across from him, ice cold beneath his fingertips.

❧

_The lamp on the bedside table cast a soft yellow glow onto Jaskier’s side of the bed, just enough light for him to be able to see the door to his bedroom. His husband was running late, but there’d been an accident on the highway earlier. He was probably just stuck in traffic._

_Jaskier was jolted out of his thoughts when the front door opened and shut with a loud slam. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hardwood and Jaskier sat up straighter in his bed, suddenly nervous at the lack of a greeting._

_“Aaron, is that you?” Still no response. The footsteps continued, getting closer and closer until they stopped just in front of his closed door. “Aaron, this isn’t funny!”_

_The doorknob turned slowly, squeaking slightly. They needed to call a repairman because it would jam occasionally. The door swung open, the hinges eerily creaking and squealing. Jaskier’s heart was beating rabbit-quick, breaths coming out in quiet gasps. The hall was shrouded in darkness, and Jaskier could barely make out a large figure standing in the doorway._

_“Aaron?” Jaskier whispered, his heart stopping in his chest. The figure moved closer, into the light of the lamp and Jaskier let out a scream._

_The man roughly shoved his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, muffling his shouts. Jaskier kicked out and thrashed, shouting victoriously when his foot made contact with the man’s groin, making his grip falter. Twisting out from underneath the man, Jaskier ran out of his room and towards the front door. Tears streamed down his face and he shouted in pain when a solid weight slammed against him and threw his body into the edge of the counter._

_The man didn’t speak, only exhaling harshly through his nose. A black ski mask over his face prevented Jaskier from seeing nearly all of his distinctive features, but icy blue eyes locked into his own, squinting like the man was amused by his fear. When the man took out a butcher’s knife, Jaskier was sure he was smiling under the mask._

_A bloodcurdling, animalistic shriek tore itself out of Jaskier’s throat as that butcher’s knife sliced across his neck, burning like a line of fire. He didn’t want to die, he still had so much to see, so much to experience in life. He didn’t want to leave Aaron alone, didn’t want him to find his husband like this, throat cut and bleeding out mere feet from the front door._

_As the blood left his body, coating him uncomfortably in the warm liquid, Jaskier’s vision faded to black. A woman stood in the darkness. She looked about 30, with strawberry blonde hair and stunning brown eyes. Was this Nellie Young?_

_“Thank you,” the woman whispered, reaching out to cup his face gently. Her palm was smooth and cool like a balm on Jaskier’s skin. “Thank you for listening to me.”_

_The darkness turned to light, a light so bright that Jaskier could see it even when he closed his eyes. He was surrounded by that warmth, though he wasn’t in pain. He was calm. That light engulfed him and faded slowly, ebbing away like the tide, until Jaskier was surrounded by nothing at all._

❧

Eyes fluttering open, Jaskier groaned, clutching his head. It felt like a truck had run him over. What he’d seen, were those Nellie Young’s final moments? Is that the explanation for his sudden nightmares? He was seeing himself in place of the victims, watching through their eyes as they died.

“Jaskier, are you okay? What the hell are you doing here alone?” A suspiciously familiar voice asked, and that was when Jaskier finally noticed Eskel crouched beside him, eyes filled with concern. The man was splattered with mud, a shotgun and a flashlight discarded on the grass beside him.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here, Eskel?” Jaskier dodged the question easily, peeking at his phone and seeing only a few minutes had passed. It felt like he’d been in… whatever that place was for hours. The barista stood up and made his way over to Bee, picking up her carrier and hearing her mewl unhappily from inside. Aside from being a little chilly, she looked okay. Jaskier wished he could say the same. He was dizzy and felt warm and overheated despite the biting wind.

When he turned, Eskel was standing behind him, shotgun in one hand, flashlight in the other. “I was sent here to deal with a wraith problem and I saw you on the ground. I thought you were the wraith at first, you were so pale and still. What were you doing?”

“I…” Jaskier hesitated, heart rate spiking. He was afraid of how Eskel would react to him being able to communicate with spirits. Missing the way Eskel’s nostrils flared, eyes narrowing suspiciously, Jaskier lied again. “I was coming to visit Nellie’s grave. I knew her.”

Was it really that much of a lie? Jaskier felt like he _did_ know her, now that he’d seen her die through her eyes. Now that he’d shared her fear, her pain, and strangely, her happiness at finally being heard. Eskel nodded, seemingly accepting the explanation.

“You should go home anyway. I don’t know why the wraith isn’t showing up anymore, but it might come back.” Eskel adjusted his grip on the shotgun, eyes scanning warily over the quiet cemetery. _I don’t think the wraith will be coming back,_ Jaskie thought, fighting the urge to smile at the memory of Nellie’s grinning face as she too was surrounded by that strange light. Nellie had finally moved on. Jaskier had _helped_ Nellie move on. That was a good feeling.

“Yeah, I should be getting home either way. I lost track of the time, I guess,” he said, laughing nervously. After a brief hug and a promise to meet up properly, Jaskier turned and began walking through the trees and back to his apartment.

The cemetery was five minutes behind the barista when a low growl sounded through the trees to his left. Whipping around, Jaskier stared fearfully into the darkness. It was barely bright enough for him to see a few feet in front of him. He barely registered Bee hissing and growling in her carrier, too occupied with hightailing his ass as far away from whatever animal was hiding in the trees as he could get.

He didn’t get very far.

A glint of the moonlight off of tawny fur was the only warning Jaskier got before he was slammed into the ground. Bee’s carrier flew out of his hand and the barista groaned as the breath was knocked out of him. That groan turned into a pained scream as sharp teeth dug deep into his shoulder and _tugged._

The wolf shook him roughly like a dog playing with a chew toy, and Jaskier sobbed as the pain spread from his shoulder to his side and down his right arm. Was he too far for Eskel to hear his screams? Was he going to die like this, in pain and afraid? Would the wolf go after Bee once it had finished off Jaskier? The thought made his stomach clench.

A darkness came over him, similar to the one he saw with Nellie, but this time there was no light waiting for him. He was alone and so, so scared.

❧


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are spilled (along with tears), and Jaskier is starting to think that lying by omission wasn’t the best way to handle his problems

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have fun with this one!

❧

Darkness.

Darkness and… voices?

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open and he let out a soft whine at the pain that flared up his arm when he tried to move.

“Jask, lay down,” a familiar voice said gently, nudging him until he laid flat on the bed, head cushioned by a warm pillow. Jaskier turned his head and realized he wasn’t sleeping on a pillow, it was just Geralt.

“Ger-” A sharp cough cut Jaskier off, and Geralt grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table. Scarred hands helped him sit up and carefully held the bottle to his lips. After a few small sips, the barista moved away, groaning at the ache in his shoulder. “Geralt, what happened?”

The man sighed and guided him to lay back down on his chest. “You were attacked by a werewolf two nights ago. Eskel heard you screaming and ran to find you. He couldn’t find the werewolf by the time he got there, though. Jask…” Geralt hesitated, and Jaskier tilted his head up to look at him. Gold eyes met blue and the barista was shocked at the tears that threatened to fall from them. “I thought you were going to _die_ when you didn’t wake up. You scared me because I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered, and a single tear made its way down the man’s face.

“You won’t,” Jaskier promised, tightening his hold around Geralt’s chest. Tears of his own were close to spilling down his cheeks and Jaskier sniffed, taking Geralt’s hand in his own. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Shaky smiles were exchanged, and Jaskier would have leaned in and kissed Geralt if his whole body didn’t feel like it’d been hit with a car. Jaskier instead turned his eyes to Geralt’s room to distract himself. That’s when he noticed the one thing that was missing.

“Geralt, where’s Bee?” he asked quietly. He remembered the carrier falling out of his hand in the woods, but not what happened after. After a few moments of silence, Jaskier turned to look at Geralt. The man’s eyes were full of pity and sadness, and Jaskier felt his heart speed up painfully in his chest.

“Jask, she wasn’t there when Eskel found you-”

“No!” Jaskier interrupted, his good hand fisting his hair tightly. His breaths came out shakily and rabbit-quick. “No, no, no she can’t be d- she _can’t…_ ”

Gently untangling Jaskier’s hand from his hair, Geralt maneuvered them both so that he was leaning against the headboard, Jaskier shaking in his lap. The barista turned and hid his face in Geralt’s chest. “The door of the carrier was open when Eskel found it, Petal, she might have gotten away,” he said, but Jaskier heard the unspoken words. _The carrier door was probably open because the werewolf clawed its way inside._

Jaskier’s breathing got faster and faster until he wasn’t sure he was even getting air anymore. He faintly heard Geralt shout for help, but all the barista could think about was Bee being eaten by the same horrifying creature that tried to take a chunk out of his arm. A strained whimper escaped him and he could barely make out who came into the room as the door opened through the tears in his eyes.

Bee was really _gone?_ Just like that? Jaskier still remembered when he’d found Bee as a kitten, abandoned in a smelly cardboard box in the rain. It was straight out of a cliche movie, and Jaskier had fallen in love with the fiery Maine Coon as soon as he laid eyes on her. She’d been with him through everything since he’d moved to the city, and now she was never going to be with him again? It wasn’t fair, he hadn’t even gotten to say _goodbye!_

“Jaskier, you have to breathe,” a second voice said by his side. A light touch on his shoulder made him turn his head and Jaskier was met with an unfamiliar face.

The man had hair like Geralt’s, but he looked older. Geralt mentioned a father while they were talking, this man was probably him. Jaskier tried to slow down and match his breaths to Geralt’s steadily rising and falling chest against him, but he couldn’t seem to get the image of Bee, bloody and mangled, out of his head.

Hiccuping with his tears, Jaskier sniffed and tried his best to follow as Geralt’s father began counting to four in a calm voice before repeating. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. This steady rhythm went on for a few minutes until Jaskier felt himself sag against Geralt, exhausted and upset. A cup was held to his lips again and he drank, unable to stop the small whine that escaped him at the foul taste.

“It does taste horrible, doesn’t it?” the man said, laughing quietly. After a minute, Jaskier’s eyelids began to droop and he yawned, burrowing against Geralt. Someone tucked the blankets around him, minding his wounded shoulder, and Jaskier sighed sleepily as Geralt began to rub his back gently.

“Sleep, Petal.” _Petal? When did Geralt start calling me petal? I… don’t hate it, surprisingly._

He would’ve been a bit more angry about the fact that Geralt’s father had drugged him to sleep if he wasn’t so grateful for the medicine taking away the fierce ache in his shoulder. And the fierce ache in his heart, if only for a moment. Mourning Bee could wait for a few short minutes while Jaskier closed his eyes for a bit. He would wake up and go looking for her in the woods, if only to have a body to bury. That was a problem for future Jaskier, though.

❧

Future Jaskier, now present Jaskier, regretted putting off the mourning. He’d woken up three hours later, alone in the room, and had sat there crying by himself for ten minutes. He didn’t want to bother anyone and Geralt was probably tired of watching him and needed a break, so Jaskier was content with sitting on the bed having his little pity party until his stomach grumbled hungrily.

He was wearing a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a large black shirt, probably Geralt’s, and that was good enough. Opening the door quietly, Jaskier stepped into the hallway and down the stairs, trying to remember where everything was from his last visit. Voices drifted from the kitchen and Jaskier stepped in to see Eskel and Lambert talking quietly at the table, hunched over a laptop.

Through the window, Jaskier could see autumn leaves sprinkled on the grass in the front yard, a bright, cloudless sky sending rays of light onto the ground and bouncing off leaves. It was beautiful. It also wanted to make Jaskier cry. Bee loved to sunbathe. She would lay out on the couch in their apartment and purr in the sunlight for hours, and now she can’t. Jaskier will have to go back to his apartment and stare at that spot Bee used to love, with only memories of her enjoying it.

Wiping away the few tears that had fallen down his cheeks, Jaskier sniffed and made his way to the table, giving a wobbly smile to the brothers when they looked up at him.

“Jaskier, what are you doing out of bed?” Lambert stood and helped him get water and some toast. Eskel remained silent at the table as Jaskier sat down to his left. Was he mad at Jaskier? Did he do something wrong? Maybe he was mad because he’d gone into the woods at night. Or because he messed up the hunt.

“There was nobody in the room when I woke up, so I came down here,” Jaskier said quietly, not wanting to do anything to anger Eskel further. The brother still wasn’t looking at him, eyes planted firmly on the tabletop, and Jaskier frowned, trying to stop his bottom lip from trembling. What had he done?

Before he could say anything to Eskel, Lambert set his plate down in front of him and sat down beside him. The barista smiled shakily at the hug he was pulled into, wincing slightly as his shoulder was jostled.

“You okay?” Lambert asked softly, pulling back to look into the barista's eyes. “You scared us for a second, Jaskier.”

“I’m okay,” he said, crumbling the corner of his toast (over the plate, of course, he wasn’t rude) and staring at a spot on the wall across from him. “Traumatized, but okay. I just-” Jaskier cut himself off, taking a small bite of the toast to avoid finishing his sentence. Lambert wasn’t having that one bit.

“You just…?”

Sighing, Jaskier fought the tears he felt rising in his eyes. “I miss Bee,” he whispered sadly. As soon as he said the words aloud, it was like floodgates had broken. Jaskier curled in on himself, appetite lost, and wiped away the tears on his face as fast as they fell.

“…Jaskier, I’m so sorry.”

He’d almost missed it because Eskel had said it so quietly. When he turned to look through red rimmed, swollen eyes, Eskel was sitting ramrod straight, tense as a bowstring. His eyes were filled with guilt, and Jaskier sniffed, reaching out to take his hand.

“Sorry for what?” the barista asked in a hoarse voice. Eskel’s palm was rougher and bigger than his own. His body was coiled like a snake ready to strike, but the brother still held Jaskier’s hand like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

Frowning, Eskel stared at their joined hands with resignation. “I should have gotten to you sooner, Jaskier. And I’m sorry I couldn’t find Bee, I swear I looked all around the path but I couldn’t see her and you were bleeding out and you needed help, and I-” Eskel paused, taking a deep breath. “I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore-”

“What?!” Jaskier stood up, ignoring Lambert’s calls for him to sit down. Standing up as well, Eskel looked ready to be slapped, and it broke Jaskier’s heart. Reaching out, he gently cupped Eskel’s face, thumb rubbing soft circles over the scars stretching down his face. “Eskel, I don’t _blame_ you for what happened!”

“But-”

“No! You did all you could, and _yes,_ I’m upset over Bee and I feel like my heart has been smashed into small pieces with a hammer-” Eskel’s face fell. “It was _not_ your fault. You _saved_ me, Eskel, that’s all I could ask. If it weren’t for you, I’d be lying in that damn forest, ripped to shreds!”

At the end of his speech, Jaskier was breathing heavily and Eskel was looking more like a startled kitten than a kicked puppy.

“…so you don’t hate me?”

“No, of course I don’t hate you. I thought you hated _me!_ You weren’t talking to me and I thought I’d messed up and made you mad,” Jaskier said, the end of his sentence trailing off into a sad whine. Eskel stepped forward and gathered the barista into a hug, holding him as he burst into tears yet again.

“I’m sorry.” The brother said, slightly at a loss of what to do to comfort Jaskier. He looked at Lambert over Jaskier’s shoulder, who shrugged and ate the rest of Jaskier’s toast. “I didn’t mean to make you upset, Jaskier, I promise I’m not mad at you.”

Tilting his head up, Jaskier gave Eskel a small smile. “S’ okay,” he mumbled, feeling slightly worn out. As the two let go and sat back down (not Lambert, though. Jaskier forced him to make another piece of toast for him after gasping at the sight of his plate, empty except for crumbs), the sound of the garage door slamming open startled all three men.

Roach ran inside, paws muddy, until she reached Jaskier’s feet and began barking loudly. Geralt and the brothers’ father stormed in soon after, looking grim (the father) and confused (Geralt). Looking at Jaskier with a glare that could make flowers wilt, he stomped over to the kitchen table and slammed a hunting knife down, driving the tip into the wood and leaving it there, quivering with the vibrations.

“We went back to the cemetery and Roach picked up the scent of the wraith you were hunting, Eskel.” the older man didn’t so much as glance towards his son while he was speaking, keeping his eyes trained on Jaskier like a hawk. “She lost the scent, but picked it up again when we were in the garage, and look at who she led us to.”

The brothers all turned to Jaskier with varying expressions. Jaskier flinched at the unconcealed hurt on Geralt’s face. He jumped when the man in front of him slammed his hands down on the table, making the plates rattle.

“Tell me what you are and why you’ve taken an interest in my family before I _gut you._ ”

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so there’s... a lot happening in this chapter but I couldn’t find a good place to end it until the last paragraph LOL


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has never felt angrier, but at who? Himself? Probably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Jaskier thinks about how it would’ve been better if he died (for a couple sentences).  
> Wowww I had a plot all ready and it was so fluffy and cute and then I opened the doc and it all goes blank after that. Have fun with this one y’all.

❧

“… Vesemir, he’s human!” Lambert said, face scrunched up in confusion. Roach had stopped barking and was growling threateningly at Jaskier’s feet. The barista had stood up, moving behind his chair, not wanting to be so close to the brothers’ father- Vesemir while he was threatening to gut him.

“Then why did Roach lead us to him?” Eskel turned to look at Jaskier with an unreadable expression. “Roach never messes up a scent, she must have smelled the wraith on you.”

Spinning around to glare at his brother, Lambert gestured at Jaskier with his hand. “Eskel, you really think Jaskier is a fucking _wraith?_ Maybe Roach did mess up, you said Jaskier was at the grave when you got there. He knew the wraith when it was alive.”

“Here’s the thing.” Vesemir took a step towards Jaskier, grabbing the knife and yanking it out of the table. “I checked, and Nellie Young lived twelve hours away from here. Her family had her remains brought back here when she died _decades ago._ I’m assuming you didn’t bother checking the date of death on her grave before lying straight to Eskel’s face.” Another step, and Jaskier inched backwards.

“I-I can explain,” he stuttered, tearing his eyes away from the knife being brandished at him and meeting Geralt’s hurt gaze. “I’m not a wraith, I swear. The ghost of that girl did this to me when she attacked me!”

Vesemir snorted in obvious disbelief, moving closer like a tiger waiting to pounce. The knife was steady in his hand. “Nice try, wraith. You filthy monsters are all the same.”

Not even Lambert came to his defense this time, and Jaskier felt icy fear grip his heart. “No, no you have to believe me! The ghost touched my face and something happened, she _changed_ me, but I’m still human! Geralt, _please,_ ” Jaskier whispered, turning to the man with pleading eyes. “I’m not a _monster._ ”

The brothers all glanced at each other before Geralt spoke up. “What if you made him touch iron, Vesemir?” he suggested quietly. The older man grabbed the wolf medallion (same as the brothers’) around his neck and pulled it off, sliding it across the table to Jaskier.

The barista looked at it hesitantly. He honestly had no idea if the iron would affect him or not. If he failed this test, Jaskier wasn’t sure if he would make it out of this house alive. The brothers wouldn’t come to his rescue if Vesemir killed him, why would they believe Jaskier over their own father?

“I’m waiting.”

Glancing nervously at Vesemir, Jaskier scooped up the medallion and held it in his palm, the metal still warm against his skin. After a couple minutes of everyone staring intensely at Jaskier, looking for a reaction, the barista felt his heart jump into his throat.

Spreading from the point the metal touched his palms to his fingers was an unbearable itchy feeling, slowly getting more and more intense. It felt like Jaakier’s hands were being held over an open flame. He tried for as long as he could to hold onto the medallion like his life depended on it because, unfortunately, it did.

“A-ah!” Jaskier yelped and the sound of the medallion bouncing off the wooden tabletop nearly made his life flash before his eyes. Now all four of the men around him were growling, staring at him with the same furious glare. His hands were a fiery red and raw, cracked and bleeding in some places.

Vesemir shook his head disappointedly and tossed something to Eskel, who had moved to stand behind the barista. “Eskel, cuff it. We’ll put it in the basement until Yennefer gets here. She’ll figure out whatever the fuck this thing is.”

“He, not it,” Geralt growled, avoiding Jaskier’s tear filled gaze.

Whipping around to face his son, Vesemir pointed at Jaskier, now trying to figure out a way to make it past the four and out the door. There was no way he could do it. “That _thing_ is not a man, Geralt, it’s a monster. Get whatever lies it told you out of your head. Until we know one hundred percent that it’s human or was human, which I doubt-” Vesemir shot another death glare towards Jaskier. “-we’re keeping it locked in the basement, just like any other unknown monster we’ve captured!”

Nobody dared to talk back to the snarling man. Jaskier whimpered as Eskel roughly grabbed his hands and tugged them behind his back, completely opposite from the gentle grip he’d held them in not even an hour before. The cuffs held his wrists tightly and Jaskier gasped in pain as that horrible burning feeling started to spread again. Iron handcuffs, then.

Knowing he wouldn’t last two seconds if he started to struggle, Jaskier let himself be yanked to the basement, Lambert’s hand purposely digging into the barely healed werewolf bite on his shoulder. Tears streamed down the barista’s face. He’d never been scared of the brothers before, but now he was terrified.

A heavy metal door was opened (iron again) and Jaskier was frog marched down the narrow wooden staircase into near pitch black darkness. Reaching over him, Lambert pulled on a string Jaskier hadn’t noticed and a single lightbulb flickered to life. The barista was unable to contain his sobs as he saw the examination table on the left side of the room, surgical tools neatly placed next to them. Looking to his right, Jaskier’s eyes widened at the sight of a large iron cage in the corner of the room, covered in rust with a heavy padlock on the door. The floor was stained with what Jaskier could only assume was dried blood, leading to a drain in the middle of the room, directly in front of Jaskier’s feet.

All in all, the basement was rather small, but that didn’t stop Jaskier from shaking with fear because of its contents. “Lambert.” Jaskier turned to the man behind him, trying to calm his erratic breathing. “Lambert you can’t leave me down here, _please._ I’m human, I swear,” the barista pleaded, desperation pouring off of him. “Why would I lie to you? You have to believe me, Lambert, I would never hurt you or your family!”

“Get in the cage.” Lambert didn’t even look at him as he unlocked the handcuffs and shoved Jaskier forward. “Don’t make me force you inside.”

The coldness in his voice made Jaskier flinch and he hesitantly stepped forward, a scream rising in his throat as he heard the cage door slam shut with a mighty _bang_ as soon as he was far enough inside. Jaskier spun around, grasping at the bars unthinkingly. He gasped and let go as the iron burned his raw hands. Lambert looked at him with a carefully blank face as he locked Jaskier inside the cage, sealing his fate.

“ _Please, please don’t leave me,_ ” Jaskier said, voice barely above a whisper. The corner of Lambert’s mouth twitched, and he took a breath like he was about to speak, but the man said nothing, turning away and making his way to the lightbulb. It flickered off, leaving Jaskier in that horrible darkness, and the sound of the basement door shutting had him sliding to the ground, sobbing and grabbing his arms tight in a sad imitation of an embrace.

Barely able to see the ground in front of him, let alone his surroundings, Jaskier was left to his thoughts. That wasn’t good at all. He wished he’d never met these men. These horrible men, who’d brought hope into his life and then killed it. And his cat. Jaskier wished Geralt would have just let that fucking ghost kill him when it had the chance. Now he was a _monster,_ wasn’t he? A freak of nature, an unknown beast. Not even human enough to be called “he”, much less his name.

His clothes did little to stop the burn of the iron, so Jaskier curled up on the cold, stone floor of the cage and let the tears slip down his face. Something inside of him shattered in that moment, and Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to put it back together. Nobody was coming for him. Would Priscilla call someone when she got back into town, or would she just assume his disappearance was another one of Jaskier’s spontaneous and reckless decisions? Did the old couple that ran the tea shop tell anyone when he failed to show up for work?

Jaskier laid there, balled up on the icy floor of the iron cage, the word “monster” ringing in his ears.

Death would be better than this.

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a little shorter than my other chapters but I felt like this was a good place to end it :/ I know, I know, I hate me for writing this too. Scream at me in the comments if you want LOL I will completely understand :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is rescued from that hell hole of a basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading!

❧

You know, when those assholes caged him down here they could’ve at least plugged in a heater.

Jaskier’s teeth chattered and he hugged his legs impossibly closer to his chest, resting his head on his knees. His thin shirt did nothing for the chill of the stone floor and his feet were icy even with socks. Meals came staggered, so Jaskier had no idea how long he’d been in the basement for. When he tried to speak to whoever brought down his meals, he was met with nothing but silence. Jaskier didn’t try to talk anymore.

The door opened and footsteps sounded on the stairs before Geralt flicked on the light. Jaskier shut his eyes tightly as they adjusted from hours in the darkness. He stayed huddled in his corner, peeking at Geralt as he removed the old plate and the bucket near the door (that had taken some getting used to. Honestly he deserved a medal for figuring out how to do his business in a bucket in pitch black darkness).

“I thought I could trust you.”

Jaskier opened his eyes and looked at Geralt, finding the man staring at him with a scowl.

“I actually thought I _loved_ you, and I had no fucking idea that the whole time you were just another monster trying to get me to lower my defenses so you could strike.”

That was the stupidest shit Jaskier had ever heard. So he could strike? Was Geralt being serious right now?

His silence only angered the man further and he slammed his fist onto the iron bars. Jaskier didn’t even flinch at the thunderous boom that rang throughout the basement.

“Do you really have _nothing_ to say for yourself?”

Jaskier opened his mouth, tongue darting out to wet his chapped lips. “Fuck off,” he whispered, voice cracking from so long spent in silence. He hadn’t felt like humming since he’d gotten here, much less singing. Geralt growled and slammed the cage shut, locking it and turning the light off. It was only when Jaskier heard the basement door bang shut that the tension released from his body. He was surprised the brothers hadn’t taken their anger out on him yet. Well, they were getting there apparently.

Sighing, Jaskier shifted and felt around in the darkness for his food and water. The cleaned metal bucket scraped against the concrete floor as Jaskier pushed it out of the way. Finally his hands made contact with a small bowl of cold… oatmeal? Jaskier didn’t really know. Finding no spoon, the barista shrugged and held the bowl to his lips. Jaskier was convinced that the oatmeal somehow tasted even worse than if he had made it, and that’s saying something.

❧

The next time someone entered the basement, the bowl and bucket were taken out, but nothing was put back in. Cracking open an eye from where he sat with his head on his knees, Jaskier watched Vesemir warily as the cage locked and a second set of footsteps descended down the stairs.

A raven haired lady in a long black dress stepped onto the concrete floor. After so long in silence, Jaskier found the clicking of her heels slightly annoying. The woman was pretty in a dangerous kind of way and her whole look screamed “don’t mess with me”. Jaskier figured this must be the woman that Vesemir mentioned. She would be the one to decide if he was human or not.

Vesemir kicked one of the cage’s bars and smirked when Jaskier startled. “Here it is, Yennefer. Just tell the boys that this thing isn’t human so I can get it out of my basement and on the sharp end of a knife.”

Eyes widening in fear, Jaskier turned to look at the woman- Yennefer and found her already staring at him with curious purple eyes. What if she said he wasn’t human? He’d really die, wouldn’t he? These men would kill him and that’d be it.

“May I hold your hand for a moment?” Yennefer asked, strangely polite for speaking to a monster in a cage. She had an odd look in her eyes.

Jaskier nodded, choosing to remain silent. He heard Vesemir asking if she was sure and then the cage door being opened again. Jaskier scooted forward until he sat just behind the door and extended his hand so that Yennefer could take it on her side of the doorway. Her hand was warm in his, but then again, she hadn’t spent who knows how long in a freezing basement. Closing her eyes, she began to mumble some strange language under her breath, and Jaskier flinched when he felt something akin to prodding in his head. On one of the prods, something gave and Jaskier jolted with a gasp.

The memories of all his paranormal attacks came rushing back through his mind at light speed. He was seeing the werewolf, then the wraith, then the vampire, then finally, the horrible thing that started it all. The ghost of that poor little girl. Jaskier watched himself writhe on the floor of his bathroom while the ghost grabbed his face in her hands and he recalled the burning sensation he’d felt, so vivid it was as if his face was burning now.

Yennefer let his hand slip from her grasp and stood up, her face so filled with rage that even Vesemir took a step back while Jaskier scooted towards his corner, as far away from the cage door as he could get.

“He is _human,_ ” she yelled, and Jaskier’s breath hitched as blue lighting seemed to jump between her fingers. He’d never seen anything like it. “You have been keeping a human down here in a fucking _cage_ for two weeks!”

Two weeks? It’d felt like days to Jaskier. Fuck, was he fired from the coffee shop? Had Priscilla gone to check on him at his apartment when she got back from her trip? Oh, and he was _human?_

Jaskier wished he could have taken a picture of Vesemir’s face. Actually, nevermind, he never wanted to look at Vesemir’s face or his sons’ ever again after he got out of this stupid house. The man’s eyes had widened to saucers at Yennefer’s words and he was now looking at Jaskier with a horrified expression, as if _now_ he was finally feeling guilty. Fuck that.

A hand in the corner of his eye made him turn and see Yennefer with her hand extended, ready to help him out of the cage.

“Wait!” They both turned to look at Vesemir, his hand hovering over the hilt of the knife on his belt. “Yennefer, are you sure? He burns when he touches iron-”

“Because that ghost tried to possess him, Vesemir! When a ghost possesses you, the side effects can sometimes last for years. Hearing and communicating with spirits, burning with iron, aversion to salt, rashes with holy water, the list goes on! Honestly, this is basic knowledge, and the fact that you unnecessarily subjected a human to two weeks in this hell hole because you were so ignorant and stubborn is shocking to me.”

Breathing heavily, she turned back to Jaskier with a slightly unnerving smile. Jaskier grasped her hand and stood, wide eyed and not really knowing how to react to the woman coming to his defense. He wordlessly followed her up the stairs and into the large bathroom near the kitchen. The sunlight felt like it was roasting his eyes as they adjusted. A cool feeling wrapped around him, like trickling water, and Jaskier gasped when he looked in the mirror and saw the grime gone from his face, his borrowed clothes swapped for leggings and a large, baby blue hoodie. Jaskier turned to see Yennefer looking at him with amusement.

“I’m Yennefer, a sorceress. Can you speak?” she asked. Jaskier knew his voice would sound horrible if he did, but it would be rude not to thank this woman for saving his life.

“Jaskier.” Gods, his voice sounded more frog than human. “Thank you for saving me,” he said quietly, not ready to speak as loud as normal just yet. Yennefer’s voice was soft and smooth though, and it washed over him like a balm.

She smiled, not commenting on his croaky voice and insisted that it was no trouble. “Ready to get out of here?”

Jaskier nodded and they made their way out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. The three brothers and Vesemir were standing around the kitchen table, Geralt the closest, and Jaskier shuddered at the familiarity of the situation, but this time Yennefer was with him. Vesemir met Jaskier’s eyes and flinched at whatever he saw there. Turning around, he went upstairs without a word. One down, three to go.

Eskel was the first to speak, his frown deepened by the scar on his lip. “Jaskier, I’m so sorry…” He looked at a loss for words and Jaskier was not going to help him find them.

“We should have believed you, Jaskier,” Lambert said, eyes downcast and posture tense. He looked like a child about to get scolded. Still, Jaskier said nothing.

His eyes met Geralt’s and the man reached out to touch his face. Jaskier flinched and took a step back, letting Yennefer act as a barrier between them. Geralt retracted his hand as if it’d been burned and looked at Jaskier helplessly. “Jask…” he whispered, hurt in his eyes. That wasn’t fair. Geralt didn’t get to look fucking _hurt_ when it was him and his family that had did this to him in the first place.

Tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes and Yennefer put a gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the front door as she turned back to the three men standing around the table.

“You all should be fucking ashamed of yourselves. I just don’t understand how-” she cut herself off, shaking her head with a sigh. “Come on Jaskier, let's get you away from these horrible men.”

Opening the front door, Jaskier stopped for a moment and breathed in the smell of fresh air. He didn’t know how much he missed it until now. Yennefer was staring at him with a sad expression but she smiled when she realized he was looking. They stopped in the middle of the driveway, and she turned to him, smiling sheepishly.

“So… small problem. You’ve been evicted from your apartment and I had all of your larger things moved to a storage unit for now. Are you okay with crashing at my place?”

Jaskier blinked. “I-I’m fine with staying with you for a bit. How did you get my stuff in storage so fast?”

“I had a feeling I’d be taking you out of this house the second Vesemir described you to me,” she said. “Have you ever traveled by portal?”

“Uh… no?”

“Okay, you might feel a little nauseous but this dress is new so I am begging you please do not vomit on me.”

Jaskier smiled for the first time in two weeks, taking Yennefer’s hand once again and bracing himself for the strange experience that was stepping through a portal.

Maybe he could piece back that broken thing he’d become in the basement, with the help on his new… friend? Yennefer caught Jaskier’s eye and they both smiled. His new friend.

❧

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this household we STAN YENNEFER. This is the end of this work, so stay tuned for the next!

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos + Comments are appreciated! Don’t be shy to say something if you feel I’ve missed tags or warnings :)  
> I have no idea how to use [Tumblr](https://thefoxssocks.tumblr.com/) but send me a message if you want and I’ll figure it out!


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